


One AM In A Denny's Parking Lot

by Corvid_Knight



Series: Demonstuck [6]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Demonstuck, Gen, Murder attempt, Violence Warning, abusive guardianship, assassination attempt, blood warning, this really goes with another fic jsyk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-17 05:48:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16089332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corvid_Knight/pseuds/Corvid_Knight
Summary: This was written as a flashback/side chapter forThe Main Reason To Visit West Virginia Is Not, In Fact, The Scenery, because the guy who started me writing the main fic said that Grey's definitely had a run-in with Bro and Dave at some point in the past. So yeah, this would be the story of the time Dave and Bro literally fought mothman in a Denny's parking lot and didn't even realize how much of a fucking meme they were being.also Bro ends up with internal injuries but we all know he deserves it





	One AM In A Denny's Parking Lot

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Michael Stonožka (JewJitsue)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JewJitsue/gifts).



Like almost always, you know that Bro's got a job lined up hours before he actually says anything about it. It's never that hard to tell; he's been scowling at his phone for what seems like fucking _forever,_ sitting too still on the edge of the hotel room's bed, the only movement the small motions his hands make to type in replies to the texts he's getting. 

From the specific notification sound that you're hearing every couple seconds, you're pretty sure that he's on the secure site he uses to set up the kinds of jobs that give you nightmares for weeks. As in, there's a ninety percent chance that somebody's going to die when he stands up and heads out. 

_Fuck._ You hate this shit. You _hate_ this shit. Odds are this isn't even a hunt--he doesn't plan this long for anything but fucking _hits_ , paid assassinations, deaths that there just _isn't_ a moral explanation for.

(Your mind shies away from the word _murder._ Maybe because it's too close to the truth.)  
There's absolutely nothing you can do about it, though. Keep out of the way, maybe; there's a small chance he's not gonna drag you along if you stay quiet and still and unobtrusive-- 

Of course, the moment that you think that, he looks up from his phone, rising to his feet as he shoves it down into his pocket. "Gear up, lil' man. We got shit to do." 

Ah, _fuck._

You nod, though. And you try to keep your hands from shaking as you start gathering your things up.

* * *

Yeah, this is definitely a hit. Bro strips the room; you know you won't be coming back here after tonight's job. Maybe not ever; he's permanently ditched hotels because he doesn't want to be associated with them after a kill. 

(Not a hunt. This isn't a fucking hunt. He's not a hunter right now. Hunters don't do this shit. You're thirteen and an idiot, but you know that hunters don't do this shit.) 

He doesn't even look at you as you get in the truck. You're really hoping that means he doesn't need you for this. Maybe this won't have anything to do with you, for once. 

...okay, why the hell is he parking the truck in front of a Denny's. He's not gonna go after someone here, right? This has to be, like. Just a stop, somewhere to meet someone for more info or-- 

Yeah, no, Bro leans back and grabs his katana from the backseat before he opens the door and slides out. Still doesn't look at you. You're starting to wonder if you're just, like, asleep, and dreaming that your Bro's about to assassinate somebody in a Denny's parking lot at something like one in the morning. 

...nah. Balling your hand up into a fist until your nails dig into your palm still hurts. It's also a really shitty idea, since once you tense up in just that way you can't manage to relax again. It's like...well, like watching bad shit in progress, which you're _also_ doing right now. 

Oh for the love of fuck. He's really going to, to fucking _lurk_ in the shadowy spot by the wall where the lights don't reach? Really? It's not even that great of a spot to hide, you can totally see him. He's gonna get spotted before he ever gets a chance at whoever's he's here for, jesus fuck. (And you don't know how you're supposed to feel about that possibility. Scared, you guess. Scared enough to close your eyes for a second.) 

Okay, maybe he is better hidden than you thought, because when you open your eyes again you actually can't see him. Like, you know where you should be looking, and it still takes you almost a full minute to spot the differentiation in shadows between your brother and the wall. Somehow, the fact that the idiot didn't change into a shirt that isn't white isn't really impacting the level of stealth he's capable of at all. 

So he's not going to get caught. You should quit fuckin' watching before you see shit you're not going to be able to forget. You really should look away. You should-- 

A car door slams, and even from this distance you can see Bro tense up, focus on the sound. When you twist around to see who's there, you have to bite down on your lip to keep from wincing, because it's a fuckin' huge guy with a kid who might be his son or his brother or you don't _know_ what but some kind of relative, they've got the same broad shoulders and straight dark hair and _fuck,_ this is who Bro's here for, you can't see the look on his face but you can see him orienting and shifting his weight like a snake that's about to strike and--

You bite down on your tongue again as he darts out. Still can't look away; you're gonna see these poor assholes die right here and now.

Except that's not what happens. 

What happens is that the taller guy turns his head at just the right instant and slides to one side like friction doesn't exist, pushing the kid out of the way as he does. What happens is that Bro just _barely_ misses the chance to correct his trajectory before the tall guy grabs his wrist and twists until the katana clatters to the pavement, and even though Bro yanks himself free almost immediately the other guy kicks the sword away, he's gonna be stuck with hand-to-hand with a guy easily twice his fucking size and _why the hell are you still sitting here_? 

You're moving even as the functional part of your brain asks that question, though, unclipping your seatbelt and grabbing a knife out of the glovebox because you're an _idiot_ and left your own sword in the backseat, not on top of everything there because you didn't think he'd make you fight. You didn't think you'd have to fight. The knife's gonna have to be enough, though. That and, y'know. Element of surprise. 

The element of surprise counts for exactly jack shit, unfortunately, because you're a fucking _dumbass_ who gets so caught up in the guy who's disarmed your Bro that you totally fucking forget the kid. What _should_ happen is that you stab the big guy and Bro finishes what he started in the opening you give him; what actually happens is that the kid--who's still a head taller than you and built a bit like some piece of heavy construction equipment--steps in front of you, hands up in what your brain instinctively categorizes as a gesture of peace and placation. 

You fucking _freeze._ You should just stab him, drive the hunting knife right through his throat and let him choke on his own blood while you help Bro, but you can't fucking do it. 

_If this guy doesn't kill me, Bro will,_ you think, instead of doing something. It gives the kid the opening he needs to disarm you almost exactly like his older counterpart disarmed Bro. _Fuck!_

"Careful, Galekh!" the taller guy warns, and great, you got a name for the guy who's probably about to kill you. You don't really _want_ his name; that just makes it harder for you to, y'know, actually fight him. 

Not that it matters. He's not just big but _fast_ ; you manage to slide around him but you only get a couple steps towards Bro before he's got both his arms around you, hooking under your own arms in a way that's supposed to immobilize you. 

It might've worked, if he didn't just lift you right off your feet. (With an ease that's goddamn terrifying, but you're already terrified.) He's got your whole weight, which means you can use his own hold on you as leverage to pull your legs up, kick him in the dick. Well, not in the dick, because he's got unfairly long legs and you're not _that_ far off the ground, but the blow's still placed in the muscle of his thigh that he yelps and his grip on you loosens. 

You instantly take advantage of that by snapping your head back into his face. Which hurts like a bitch; there's a _reason_ Bro's told you to not use your head as a weapon in a goddamn fight--but Galekh makes a sick, wounded sound and lets you go. 

You spare one glance back at him, wince at the blood already dripping between the fingers of the hand he's covered his mouth and nose with, and then spin back around to aid your Bro. 

Unfortunately, all you get to see is the big guy glance at the bleeding kid, see the look of absolute fury that passes across his face, and completely fail to do _anything_ as he slams his fist into Bro's face. 

Bro goes down like a dropped stone, and the big guy kicks him in the chest, hard, before you unfreeze and tackle him.

Well. 

Try to tackle him. You probably hurt yourself worse than you hurt him, honestly; you lead with your head _again_ , and this time you see stars. If it wasn't for strong hands grabbing your shoulders, you probably would've gone down. 

Wait, what? Why the fuck is he just...holding you up? As in, not beating the shit out of you? 

He's also saying something. 

"Galekh?" 

"Broke m' nose." The kid's voice is muffled and wet; your vision's still spinning a little bit but you don't have to see him to know he's still got his hands pressed up against his face. 

"I'm sorry, I should have ended it sooner. I'll explain it to your mothers--boy, look at me. Human. Hunter. _Look_ at me." 

Shit, he's talking to you, and the only thing you can think of is that it's absolutely imperative that he doesn't blame this shit on hunters. You're not an idiot (well, you are) and you know that this could cause a shitstorm of epic proportions for everyone who isn't you and Bro. 

So you force yourself to straighten up and look the guy in the eyes, and you fucking lie. 

"I don't know what the hell you mean by _hunter._ " 

Bafflingly, he just blinks and sighs, shaking his head. "Galekh?" 

"Mm?" 

"Get the, um..." 

"Bastard?" 

"Not exactly the word I was looking for, but yes, the bastard." 

Fuck. "You touch him and I'll fuckin' kill you--" 

That's as far as you get, because the big guy scoops you right off the ground, slinging you over his shoulder like you weigh pretty much nothing. Slamming your fists against his back does nothing, unsurprisingly, but from this position you see Galekh bend down and pick up your unconscious brother in a fireman's carry with only a little more effort than the big guy expended on you. 

Jesus. The realization of the fact that the guy could have just picked you up and thrown you through the wall at any point in time is just enough to freeze you up. Again. 

The paralysis lasts more than long enough for the big guy to deposit you (surprisingly gently) in the driver's seat of the truck. He catches your wrists when you try to hit him, just holding you steady until Galekh drops Bro in the passenger seat. 

That's when you quit fighting him. When the kid slams the door with Bro and you inside. The big guy lets go of your wrists after a moment, waiting for you to look up at him before he says anything. 

"Can you drive?" he asks you, and you nod without hesitation even though Bro hasn't even gotten you a forged ID yet. "Good. Leave." 

You should just do what he says, but you hear yourself ask, "That's all you're gonna do?" and hate yourself for the tremor in your voice, and for the look of pity that flashes across his face as he steps back and slams the door shut. 

(You flinch at that too, but at least you're not shaking hard enough that you can't find the key in the ignition and turn it, get the truck in reverse and pull out of the parking lot without hitting anything.)

* * *

By the time that Bro groans and pushes himself up a couple inches, the sky's starting to show shadings of something other than black and you're at a state where you're not really awake enough to be driving down the road. It's a good thing you got off the interstate and onto backroads a couple hours ago, because when he gasps and mutters a soft string of curses you flinch so bad the truck almost swerves off the road. 

"Where the _fuck_ are we?" 

You don't know how it's possible to stutter on the word _Illinois,_ but you somehow manage it. Bro shifts like he's going to reach over and smack you, and stops himself with another hissed obscenity, curling up around his injured chest a little bit more. 

"Spit it out, lil' man." 

"Illinois." 

"You get your ass kicked?" 

Fuck, you don't know what the right answer is. Yes or no? Lie or tell the truth? Does he want an answer on whether you lost the fight (you did) or on whether you got hurt (you didn't)? 

"Dave, for fuck's sake." Even though he doesn't move (maybe doesn't dare to, maybe _can't_ ) the coldly flat tone of his voice is still enough to make you want to stiffen up for the expected blow. 

"I broke the guy's nose," you tell him, and yeah, it's not an answer to the question he asked, but he seems to be satisfied with it, because he grunts and then winces. "Are you--" 

"Don't be a dumbass, of fuckin' course I'm not okay." Every time he shifts he lets out a little pained noise, and you're struggling not to react. He doesn't want you looking at him when he's hurt, you know he doesn't. "Find a place to stop; I'm gonna have to call somebody to come fix this shit...you really manage to get us out without getting hurt?" 

Fuck. 

You nod. And you manage not to flinch at the movement in your peripheral vision, which is good because all it is is him reaching over to fuck up your hair, a not-quite-roughly affectionate gesture that's both familiar and really fuckin' out of place here. 

"Good boy." 

You wish you didn't feel a spark of pride at hearing that from him.


End file.
